The Unconquered Mage Page 4

  “I should make notes,” I said.

  “I think your prodigious memory will make that unnecessary,” he said, disentangling himself from me in preparation for rising. I made a noise of protest, and he took my hand and squeezed it gently.

  “I have neglected you for far too long,” he said, “and there is nothing left to do but wait until we reach Colosse in a few hours. I intend to pass the word that I will be with my wife this morning, and am not to be disturbed for anything short of Renatha Torenz’s army appearing on the horizon. And then I will bring us both breakfast, and we will talk of everything except the coming conflict.”

  So we did. I feel so much lighter than when I was carrying around the fear that he didn’t love me anymore, even if I am still nervous about the upcoming meeting. Cederic has gone to arrange everything—the flag of parley to go first, then the rest of us to follow as soon as it’s been acknowledged.

  Cederic wanted me to ride my own horse—this is apparently tradition, even when going on foot makes more sense—but I flatly refused, and he decided I was right that it would look bad for the Empress-Consort to be dumped on her ass on the way in to parley. So I’ll ride with him, which makes me as happy as it’s possible to be when I’m on one of those animals, and we’ll see what happens. I think I’ve mentioned that’s my least favorite kind of plan.

  Chapter Four

  13 Hantar, evening

  I didn’t realize how much pain I was in until it was gone. Healing kathanas are extremely complicated and require at least three mages working together, but they’re very effective. I’ll still have an interesting scar, but otherwise I feel as if I’d never been wounded. Terrael’s prognosis isn’t as good as mine, because even the best healing kathana has its limitations, but he’s conscious, and they were able to repair his tendons so he can walk again (or will when he’s fully regained his strength). He looks a thousand times better than he did when we brought him out of Solwyn Manor. I don’t know about his mental state, whether he’ll ever truly recover from what they did to him, but Audryn doesn’t seem worried, and she’d know better than anyone.

  Despite what Cederic said about my prodigious memory, I really wish I’d been able to take notes. A lot happened this afternoon, and I’m sure I’ve already forgotten some of it, though I paid close attention to what everyone did, and didn’t, say. Cederic seems to think things went better than he’d expected. I guess the next few days will show if he’s right or not.

  Cederic just came in from the little room where we’d put our clothes if we had any extras. He’s clearly not wearing anything under that robe and he has the Look that says I won’t be wearing anything in a minute either. I’m continuing to write and pretending I don’t see him just to drive him mad with desire uh-oh he’s

  14 Hantar, early morning

  I never thought about sex during the years I was traveling—I mean, not in terms of something relevant to me. I certainly never understood how it can bind two people together emotionally as well as physically. I never feel so much a part of a union as I do when Cederic and I make love, never feel so spiritually invigorated even as I’m physically so relaxed I usually fall asleep right afterward. My foundation.

  I made myself wake up when Cederic did—I don’t understand why he only needs about five hours of sleep a night and never exhausts himself. But it’s going to be another busy day, so I wanted to write all about yesterday before I completely forget.

  Our messengers came back only a few minutes after I finished writing yesterday at noonish, saying the King of Helviran would see us now. I didn’t like the sound of that, as if this King were in a position to grant boons, but Cederic said, “Note that Dugan Lerongis did not style himself Emperor. He is a man easily manipulated by others and I daresay his wife encouraged him in his unsubtle and incompetent grab for power. Our messengers went to each of the candidates, all of whom are in Colosse to recognize the ascension of the new Emperor, to inform them this ‘enemy’ army is not here to take the city. They are to attend on me at Marloen Hall, which is as close to neutral ground as anywhere in Colosse, in one hour.”

  “That does sound like you have the power to make demands,” I said.

  “As Kilios, I do, though probably not to the extent I will demand their allegiance today,” he said. “If there is a Kilios, he or she may choose to accept the most high priesthood, and the most high priest has the right and obligation to anoint and crown the Emperor of Castavir when that title changes hands. This also means the most high priest has the right to choose a new Emperor when there is no successor.

  “There is nothing to say the most high priest might not decide he is the best choice for that role, but it also does not fall inevitably to him, and my decision to claim the throne for myself will be seen by some as an attempt to take power that does not belong to me. Today is for convincing these four to put their support behind me, because each has a measure of political or ecclesiastical power others will follow.”

  “How confident are you of success?” I said.

  Cederic shrugged. “Reasonably confident. The one thing I am certain of is that each of these men and women is committed to keeping Castavir intact without it coming to war—or, at least, presenting a unified front to Renatha Torenz’s army rather than being weakened by internal strife. If they can be convinced I am the superior candidate, they will probably seize on that as a satisfactory solution.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said. At that point it was time to mount up and ride into Colosse. I kept a tight grip on Cederic’s waist and tried not to wince too much at how the horse’s bouncing step jarred my still-healing wound. I realize they’re just animals, and not intelligent like humans, but it certainly feels as if they know I’m afraid I don’t like them and enjoy taking advantage of that. The Kilios’s robe smelled musty and sour, as if it needed washing, but I’m sure if someone tried, they’d be yelled at for damaging an important piece of history. And it would probably fall apart. So I tried not to lean too close to Cederic or think about how high off the ground I was, and paid attention to Colosse.

  The streets were mostly empty when we rode into the city, probably because of the Balaenic Army massed on the horizon. It felt so strange riding into Colosse and seeing little piles of snow where the streets had been swept clear. All my memories of the city are of heat and sweat and, of course, the God-Empress. I wonder what the summer climate will be like? Surely not as hot as it was, if snow can fall here.

  The farther we went, the greater the crowds, until we were surrounded on both sides by lines of people staring at us. Then someone cheered, and within minutes we were surrounded on both sides by lines of people shouting Cederic’s title and waving and holding their children up so they could see. Cederic acknowledged the greeting with his usual ebullience, i.e. nodding solemnly and occasionally lifting his hand to wave. I knew they were cheering him as Kilios, since they couldn’t have any idea he was their Emperor-elect, but I tried to wave at them myself and succeeded only in nearly falling off the horse.

  It was a reassuring sight, because I figured if they thought Cederic was that wonderful, they might be inclined to accept him as their Emperor. I wondered what they thought of Cederic arriving surrounded by the Balaenic Army, with Balaenics in his processional. I wondered if any of them missed the God-Empress. None, I hoped.

  The Marloen Hall is near the palace, south and west from where the Sais’ wing used to be. Unlike most of the buildings in Colosse, where you can tell what you’ll find inside by what shape it is, it’s the only one of its kind. It’s domed, but not like the mage buildings, which look as though bubbles are trying to emerge from them; the dome is elliptical, and bulges more at one end than the other. The building itself is a smooth oval about three stories tall, though when we went inside I discovered most of it is a single room that rises all three of those stories to the domed roof. It’s full of padded chairs that all face toward the bulging end of the oval, where there’s a raised circular stage bearing five
of those padded chairs arranged in a circle.

  There were three people, two women and a man, sitting in the chairs, none of whom turned to look at us. That was either custom, or an insult, but Cederic didn’t give any clues as to what he thought of their behavior, so I’m still not sure. Probably dominance ritual of some kind.

  Hah. I managed to make it sound like we rode our horses all the way inside Marloen Hall. Though the doors are big enough, and the ceilings high enough, we could have done that. No, we left them outside with the soldiers we’d brought with us to hold them. I didn’t mention that even with all the cheering, you could see people edging away from the horses. The God-Empress declared, years ago, that no animals were allowed inside the city, so some of those children might never have seen a horse in their entire lives. The idea made me feel defiant, like we were making a rude gesture in the God-Empress’s direction. Even if we were making that gesture with horses.

  So we dismounted and went inside. There were a couple of aisles between the chairs that led to the stage, and we all followed Cederic (well, actually I was walking beside him, so they were following us) down the widest aisle. It was literally down, because it sloped a bit, probably so people sitting in those chairs could see past the people in front of them. The stage was circled by shallow steps so you could walk easily to the top, which we did, and Cederic continued on toward the circle of chairs and went around it to sit in an unoccupied seat, making a tiny gesture to me to sit next to him. Mattiak and the generals and the Sais (we’d brought a total of ten other people, evenly divided between Balaenic and Castaviran) ranged themselves behind Cederic.

  The people in the circle did not look happy that I was there. “Who is—” one of the women said.

  “Thank you for arriving so promptly,” Cederic said, smoothly cutting her off. “Though I do not see Dugan Lerongis.”

  “He’s always late,” the man said. “Who—”

  “Time enough for introductions when we do not have to repeat them,” Cederic said. He was doing such an excellent job of keeping them off-balance I wanted to applaud, but that would have looked bad, so I folded my hands in my lap and tried to look serene. I’m not very good at serene, so it probably came off as something else, I’m not sure what. Hopefully not fierce, which Cederic says is my default expression when I’m intent on something.

  They all subsided, though they kept glancing at me. The woman who hadn’t spoken had a look of amused resignation on her face, as if this interplay was something she’d expected. She had very white hair, though her face looked too young for it, green-gray eyes, and she wore a priest’s robe in honey-colored silks and satins. Two large rings adorned her hands, one a cabochon-cut star sapphire, the other the biggest ruby I’d ever seen set in jewelry in my life. (The Kerkara Ruby is twice its size, but nobody would dare set it; bad luck follows that thing like a shark follows blood.) The woman was either richer than she looked or was, like Cederic, wearing history.

  The woman who had spoken had beautiful red hair and the beginnings of lines at the corners of her eyes; I judged her age to be mid-forties. She wore elaborate court clothing made of heavy brocade shot with gold, possibly actual gold, and a gold filigree crown set with polished red jasper perched atop her head. Her hands were constantly moving from her knees to the arm of her chair, then back to her lap where she twiddled her thumbs for a bit, but that was the only part of her that moved. I’d have thought her perfectly placid except for her hands.

  The man was the youngest of the three, about Cederic’s age, portly and with his dark hair cut very short in a style that suited him. He was dressed simply, but if he were Balaenic I’d have said his clothes were expensive despite their appearance. He wore a very dark stone in his left ear, either lapis lazuli or garnet, I couldn’t tell in the low light. He was smiling, which unnerved me because I couldn’t read his expression—amused, condescending, friendly, concealing something else? I was also unnerved at the way he kept looking from me to Cederic and back again, his gaze usually lingering on me. It was hard not to glare at him, which I would have done had I not felt it would be bad to begin this meeting in a state of antagonism, since it was so likely to end up there.

  The doors at the back of the room opened again, and a man stood silhouetted against the dim light from outside. He paused for a moment so we could absorb his magnificence, or whatever, then came down the aisle at a slow pace, as if this were a ceremony and we were all here to honor him. His approach was marred by his jerking to a halt about twenty feet away from the foot of the steps, then coming toward us more rapidly.

  “Why is she in my seat?” he demanded. His voice was whiny and petulant, further spoiling his magnificence, though the truth is, he wasn’t all that magnificent. He was attractive enough, tall, with longish chestnut brown hair and dark eyes, dressed in ornate court costume, but he was too thin and he kept hitching at the neck of his over-robe as if to keep it from sliding off his narrow shoulders. It made him look as if he were on edge, which he probably was.

  “Welcome, Dugan Lerongis,” Cederic said. “We seem to have insufficient seating. Allow me to remedy that.” He gestured, and the well-dressed woman and the short-haired man made little noises of surprise and consternation as their chairs scooted apart to make a space for another chair that now came floating up from the floor and settled itself there. Everyone but the older woman goggled.

  I was impressed because I knew, as the rest of them did not, that despite the gesture, Cederic had used Balaenic magic, his mind-moving pouvra, to move the chairs. I hadn’t seen him work any magic since we’d been reunited, so I didn’t know he’d gotten so skilled with it. I felt smugly proud on his behalf.

  “But—” Lerongis said. I knew from what they’d said before this was the King of Helviran, and the one most likely to challenge Cederic. He’d probably been hiding outside, waiting for Cederic to enter, so he could act like they’d all come at his bidding. I enjoyed seeing him flustered.

  “Please be seated so our meeting can begin,” Cederic said politely, but his eyes didn’t look at all as if he were going to put up with Lerongis’s recalcitrance. Lerongis sat.

  “Thank you all for joining me,” Cederic went on. “I am sure you have many questions. Allow me to answer what I have no doubt is the one uppermost in your thoughts. This lady is Sesskia of Balaen, my wife.”

  I was prepared for this, mostly. We’d had a long discussion about how I would be introduced, me being very reluctant to give my praenoma to a bunch of strangers who might well turn out to be my enemies, Cederic insisting we should abide by Castaviran customs in this respect because we would be urging them to make many more concessions far more important, to them, than that one. In the end, I agreed, though it didn’t make me happy.

  But I think he’s right; we need to be prepared for the reality that each country will have customs the other finds strange or unnecessary. The idea that spending the night with someone can make you married, for example. I wonder which customs are going to be universally adopted, if any.

  Anyway, that did get a reaction, even from the older woman. “The Kilios married a foreigner?” exclaimed Lerongis. “Impossible!”

  “Congratulations,” the older woman said, still with that amused look in her eye. Cederic raised his eyebrow at her and returned the smile.

  “You are certainly committed to this cause,” the other woman said. “I hope you didn’t think this was something we expected of you.”

  “I doubt Cederic Aleynten has ever done anything simply because it was expected of him,” the other man said. He stood and bowed to me, and said, “Moerton Taissatus, my lady, and I welcome you to Colosse.” That meant more than just a greeting; Taissatus is chief consul of Colosse, which is like being head of all the Lords Governor if we had such a thing in Balaen, so his welcoming me to Colosse was a subtle political ploy whose deeper meanings were lost on me.

  “She’s Balaenic, Moerton, she doesn’t speak Castaviran,” Lerongis said.

  “Yes,
I do,” I said, startling Lerongis. I sort of wish I’d been able to pretend I didn’t, just to see what he’d say when he thought I couldn’t understand. He strikes me as the kind of man who’d insult you behind your back and be sweetness and smiles to your face. But it wouldn’t have been worth it.

  “Thank you for your welcome,” Cederic said, though most of them hadn’t welcomed me at all. Taissatus sat back down, still smiling at me, which made me slightly uncomfortable because I still couldn’t read his expression, except I didn’t think he had a sexual interest in me. To cover my confusion, I turned in my seat and said, in Balaenic, “Cederic introduced me to them. I gather they weren’t expecting him to have a wife at all, let alone a Balaenic one.”

  “That was a lot of conversation for just introducing you,” Mattiak said. He looked extremely intimidating, which comforted me.

  “Some of it was keeping them off-balance,” I said. “I’ll translate as best I can, but it’s going to be difficult for me to keep track of two conversations.”

  “You can tell us the rest afterward,” he said. I nodded and turned around again. The others were watching me as if they’d been waiting for me to finish. I tried not to blush with embarrassment.

  “As to the rest of your urgent questions,” Cederic said, “I am afraid our embassy to the King of Balaen was a failure. Renatha Torenz has convinced him of the validity of her claim, and the two of them intend to marry and rule both countries jointly.”

  “Hah,” said Taissatus. “So she had the same idea we did.”

  “That doesn’t explain the foreign army camped outside our capital,” Lerongis said.

  “Let him finish, Dugan,” the white-haired woman said.